My Son Told Me Not to Come on the Trip I Paid For

line, came over with a bottle of Jim Beam and they argued about the Bears for two hours. Nobody mentioned Trevor. Nobody mentioned Malibu.

Donnie walked me to my car at the end of the night. Cold out. November cold, the kind that finds your bones through your coat.

“You did the right thing,” he said.

“I know.”

“You gonna be okay?”

I looked at him. My little continue reading …